


Operation Launch Firecrotch

by metaphoricheart



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, Gallavich, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Recovery, Suicide Attempt, There is no explicit detail about the suicide or hospital stay, getting better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:25:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7233718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metaphoricheart/pseuds/metaphoricheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the future, Ian is around 23 and Mickey is 25. Ian has gotten out of the hospital after a six month stay due to a suicide attempt. Ian and Mickey go for a walk to help ease Ian back into the world. They meet an acquaintance of Ian's along the way.</p><p>(Suicide is only mentioned briefly without detail)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Operation Launch Firecrotch

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't really following canon but it's set in the future. I don't know how old they are now but they are older than 17 and 19. 5x12 never happened. I just got into this fandom and wanted to write something. Especially about Ian and Mickey's relationship and the way Mickey is really caring of Ian with his bipolar disorder. So I'm just kinda taking what I want....  
> I'm also really rusty with prose and fanfiction.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Mickey asked Ian, searching his green eyes.

Ian looked back for a few seconds, before inhaling and then exhaling. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s do it.”

Ian stood on the front step with his hands in his jacket pockets, watching his breath form in the cold air. Mickey locked the door and turned around. Ian started to walk down the steps but Mickey touched his shoulder. He reached out, and tugged on Ian’s beanie.

“Your ears weren’t covered,” he said. 

Raising his eyebrows and smirking slightly, Ian said “So can we go now, Mom?” 

Mickey huffed out a laugh, and smacked the back of Ian’s head gently. He started to descend the steps in front of Ian and smiled with his heart swelling as he heard Ian following. 

Ian had been out of his last hospital visit for just over a month, and six months before that if he had tugged on Ian’s hat to cover his ears it would have ended up in a fist fight. A month ago, Ian would have glared and huffed annoyance. Today, he smirked with a sarcastic comeback. Ian had been slowly getting better and the stuff that made Ian, Ian, was coming back. The snark and the teasing had been back for those few seconds between them. It came out easily and naturally, like it used to. 

Ian had met him at the bottom of the steps, standing on the concrete sidewalk, and looked at Mickey nervously. Mickey got the unspoken message that Ian wanted him to take the lead, so he turned right just because he could, and started walking. In two steps, Ian was beside him with his ridiculously long legs. 

They were going for a walk at the suggestion of Ian’s therapist. It was extremely moderate exercise that was safe for Ian to do, and it got him out of the house.

They walked in comfortable silence, their breaths puffing in front of them. It made Mickey want a cigarette, but they were trying to cut down. He sighed and refocused on listening to Ian beside him, not wanting Ian to feel like he was being supervised but also wanting to make sure he was okay. 

Mickey had just done a quick side glance at Ian, when he felt a tug on his coat sleeve, and Ian’s fingers trying to wrap around his own. Ian seemed to remember where they were though, and suddenly stopped and withdrew his hand with a mumbled “sorry”. 

But Mickey quickly drew Ian’s hands back, firmly wrapped his hand around his boyfriends, and squeezed. Ian looked over at him in surprise. “Uh, you sure you’re okay with this?” 

Mickey still had trouble with public displays of affection like holding hands. Ian didn’t want to push his boyfriend too far. 

Squeezing Ian’s hand again, Mickey smiled. “Hey, it’s fine. Alright?” 

Ian looked at Mickey’s face and nodded, before ducking his head back down and smiling slightly. Mickey felt his heart swell again, like he was the fucking Grinch in that dumb Christmas movie Liam watched all the time.

Ian let out a shaky breath, “It’s nice out. But I feel like fucking Sheila, being nervous to go outside the house….” Ian trailed off.  
Mickey was torn between gentle comforting, or comforting via teasing. Ian seemed to be okay with it today, but that didn’t mean that wouldn’t change as soon as the words came out of his mouth. He decided to go for it.

“Well, ya know, if ya fuckin’ wanted me to make a chain out of bed sheets and tie it to the front door and you, all you had to do was ask.”

Ian laughed, a full out laugh. “Aw, shut the fuck up Mick.” 

Mickey was laughing with him, when they heard someone yell from across the street, “Hey! Gallagher! Hey wait up a second!”

Ian stopped and turned to look who had been yelling, but was now running across the street to join them. Recognition dawned on Ian’s face and he stuttered out, “Uh, hey! What’s up, man?” 

The man was in jeans and boots too nice for this neighborhood, and had a blonde beard. “Not much, just running some errands.” 

Ian nodded. He hadn’t really had that much social interaction with people outside his family, especially unexpectedly. He felt lost. And stupid. Once, the words just flowed out of his mouth and he made friends in an instant. Now, he wasn’t even sure if he could say anything back to this guy.

Mickey must have felt Ian floundering, but he was also confused. “Who the fuck is this?” 

“Uh, right. This is Cam. We used to run around the same time in the morning at the track.”

Cam grinned. “Unofficial running buddies”.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at him and nodded. This guy seemed friendly enough but it took a lot more than a minute of friendliness for Mickey to back down on his protective streak. 

Cam caught Mickey scrutinizing him, and flicked his eyes back to Ian. “Oh! Sorry. This is Mickey.”

Cam held out his hand. Mickey stared at it for a second, what kind of polite bullshit was this? Was Ian friends with a yuppie? He collected himself and shook it. 

“Nice to meet you,” Cam said brightly. Mickey gave a nod in acknowledgement.

If Cam had noticed that they were holding hands he hadn’t mentioned it. When Cam had approached them Ian had loosened his fingers, giving Mickey a chance to let go if he wanted. Mickey had tightened his grip though, and Ian put his fingers back. Ian had sighed in relief unconsciously. 

“So Ian, what have you been up to? Haven’t seen you at the track in months, man. Wasn’t sure if you were still alive,” he laughed.

Ian paled and froze. Shit. Mickey thought. This was going alright, and now shit. Couldn’t this fucker have just left off the last part? Ian had finally started to work on moving forward, instead of sorting out why he had attempted suicide. Fuck. Mickey started to rub circles on Ian’s gloved hand with his thumb. Ian responded by gripping Mickey’s hand tighter.

Cam noticed Ian’s reaction and Mickey’s stony glare. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, just joking…”

Ian’s eyes went back to looking at Cam’s, and Mickey watched him seem to snap back to life. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ve just been sick…it was kinda really serious for a while….but uh, that’s where I’ve been.”

“Shit, Ian, I’m sorry,” Cam said in a hushed voice. He seemed to have realized what had bothered Ian about his previous joke. “You feeling better?”

“Getting there,” Ian smiled tightly. God, he wanted this to be over. Cam was a cool dude, but he was not prepared for this interaction. And the last thing he wanted to talk about was where he’d been for the last six months.

They stood there awkwardly in silence for a few seconds before Cam spoke again. “Maybe you wanna go for a run next week?” 

Mickey’s hand was starting to go numb. Ian was squeezing so hard that his circulation had been cut off at least thirty seconds again. Mickey watched Ian for his response. His boyfriend turned to look at him with panicked eyes. Alright this is enough. This fucker is too friendly for his own good.

Mickey cleared his throat and pulled on Ian’s hand, backing up a little bit. “Hey, uh, sorry, but uh, we need to start heading the hell back….gonna be late…” 

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Mickey turned around, and pulled his boyfriend with him. He didn’t care if it was rude, didn’t wait for that idiot’s response. He just kept pulling Ian along at a brisk pace away, until they had rounded the next block.

“Stop, stop,” Ian panicked. His breath came out in short huffs. Pulling his hand out of Mickey’s, he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.” “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” 

“Hey, hey, alright alright,” Mickey said quickly. He gently pushed Ian back against the wall of a building, and guided him down so he was sitting. Mickey crouched in front of his boyfriend.

“Sorry,” Ian mumbled. He kept his eyes fixed on the knees of his jeans. 

“You don’t have to be. We’re just gonna fucking sit here for a minute, then head back home.” 

Ian nodded but still didn’t look up at Mickey’s blue eyes. “Deep breaths. You did good. You did real good, man. That fucker shouldn’t have been asking so many fucking questions.”

Looking up Ian, sighed. “Mick, he was just joking. Being friendly. Having a conversation like…like… normal…people do,” he finished, mumbling.

“Yeah, well, Mr. Sunshine over there needs to turn it down a couple thousand notches.” 

Mickey sighed in relief when Ian rolled his eyes. He started to push himself up, and Mickey grabbed his arm and helped him back to standing.

“We’re going home now,” Mickey said firmly, grabbing Ian’s hand again and leading the way back.

Back in their apartment, Ian sat heavily on a plastic folding chair that worked as their kitchen furniture set. Mickey placed a glass of water in front of him. Ian mechanically picked up the glass, but he suddenly realized how dry his mouth was. Fucking meds. He chugged the rest. 

A few minutes later Mickey swapped the empty glass for a steaming mug. “Don’t fucking chug that. I need your tongue in working order.”

Ian looked up at Mickey with a smirk, which Mickey returned. Ian looked down at the contents of the mug. Hot chocolate. His mouth fell into a soft smile.

“Hey Mick.” Mick turned around from the stove. “Thanks.”

Ian looked at him meaningfully. Mickey blushed, realizing the thanks was for more than the hot chocolate. “Shut the fuck up and put your gooey eyes away, Gallagher.” 

Kicking out another plastic chair from the table, Mickey sat down with two plates with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. 

“Mmm, Mick’s gourmet pb and j,” Ian teased. 

“Yeah, especially made for your stupid ass. Now eat it,” Mickey said before taking a huge bite of his own sandwich. He made a point to not look at Ian while he was chewing. Ian had gotten annoyed last week with everyone watching him to make sure he ate. He had even brought Mickey in for a few minutes of this therapy session the other day, to “constructively deal with his annoyance”—which were the therapist’s words, not Ian’s or Mickeys. They’d agreed to ease up and just let Ian eat and take the lead. Ian had agreed to the stipulation though that if he hadn’t eaten that day, Mickey was allowed to express concern.

“I uh…I don’t think I can eat all of this,” Ian said quietly. He was staring at his lap. “I know it’s just a sandwich, it’s not even that big but I still don’t feel hungry so it’s like eating glue…I’m sorry.” 

Mickey shrugged, “just eat what you can.” He then started to rant to Ian about this guy at his work the other day.

Ian was playing with his food when Mickey started talking. He played with his food a lot now a days. As Mickey went on though, by the time he had said “fucker” at least 20 times in the last five minutes, Ian was slowly eating the sandwich. 

Mickey was starting up another rant, but Ian swallowed his recent bite. “Hey, um, Mick?” He said tentatively.

Tentatively. Hesitantly. It made Mickey frustrated and sad that Ian talked like this more often than not. Before it was boldly and loudly, and dare he say it, annoyingly.

“I don’t really….wanna talk about where I was every time I see someone I haven’t seen in a while.”

“No one said you had to, Ian.”

Ian sighed. “Right. I know. I just…don’t know what to say then, and what if we meet more people and—“ Ian’s speech started to speed up and his hands were moving rapidly.

“Slow down,” Mickey interjected softly. “That was hard and you did good. But you don’t have to move so fast. 'Operation launch Ian back into the world' is gonna take a while. Remember what the doctors said? It can go as slow as it has to.” 

Ian was fiddling with what was left of his sandwich. He had eaten over half, which Mickey counted as a win. “Even if…it takes another six months…”

Mickey stood up and dragged his chair closer to Ian’s, so their knees were touching. “Even if it takes the next 20 years.” Ian looked up at him with watery eyes, and they looked into each other’s eyes for a minute, silently communicating. When Ian broke eye contact, Mick said, “Jesus, that was so fucking sappy. When we launch you do you think we should do it with your head upside down, or right side up, because you know, you’re firecrotch.” 

Ian scoffed and stood up, pushing his chair back. “Shut the hell up, asshole.”

Mickey started laughing, the hardest he had laughed in a long time.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ian called while walking to the bathroom. He shut the door. “Keep laughing. I’ll just refrain from sharing my fuel tonight.”

At the threat of no sex, Mickey choked on his laughter, and started to shake silently.

The sink was running when Ian called out, “I know you’re still laughing, you dick”.


End file.
